I Wanna Get Better
by DarkpeanutS
Summary: A rough mission has Natasha coming to Clint for respite... again. Clintasha! Smut!


_A/N: Not beta'd but please enjoy and feel free to review no matter if it is positive or negative!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's Avengers, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

Clint cracked an eye open when he felt he was no longer alone. She had opened the door silently, but he wouldn't have been considered one of the best if he couldn't sense when someone was near. Even if the person standing in the door was in the same league as him. He knew he wasn't in any danger so he simply observed her through his barely open eye, noticing she was still in her uniform thanks to the light coming in from the hall. It was that same alertness, same instinct, that allowed her to know that he was actually awake. To anyone else, Clint was sleeping soundly with his hands pillowed behind his head. To her, he was as taught as one of his bowstrings, ready to spring into action. Her eyes took in that taught body, clothed only in sweat pants.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, her voice quiet as she slipped into the room and leaned against the now closed door.

"Nope. I lie around in the dark awake all the time. S'good for my health." He replied, his voice deep and rumbling from sleep.

He couldn't see her completely now that the light was gone but he knew her well enough to know she rolled her eyes. He felt her move around the room more than he heard it, but he did hear her when she sat on his leather couch. He sighed and sat up. He reached for the touchscreen panel next to his cot and turned the lights on to 30%. His small quarters were only dimly lit now but he could see the fiery-haired woman perfectly. He could see that she had grabbed her bottle of imported vodka from the shelf on her way to the couch. She took a swig straight from the bottle as he pushed himself off of the bed. He joined her a second later, dropping onto the couch.

"That bad, Tasha?" he asked, unceremoniously throwing an arm around her shoulders.

He had kept his voice carefully flat. She could probably tell he was worried regardless, but he almost didn't care. She had been on a mission somewhere in the Middle East. He wasn't supposed to know any more than that, but when he had heard a rumor that they had lost contact with her briefly he had weaseled information out of one of the techs keeping tabs on her. She was sent in under the guise of a weapons dealer trying to overthrow a new terrorist organization. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted them taken out before they had a chance to cause any real damage because they had the potential to have a very large following. Their leader was apparently very likeable and even more resourceful.

There had been radio silence on her end for almost three days. It had come out of the blue when she had called in for an extraction, from a payphone, G.P.S. saying she was miles away from the terrorist compound. Tilting his head sideways he watched as she took another swig. A sneer briefly came to her lips and he noticed the bottom one was split and bruised. Looking closer he could see a few more bruises and what looked to be a hand print on her pale neck.

"Nothing to worry about, Clint." She told him, her voice just as quiet as before.

He knew that meant there would be no more information from her. This wasn't a new experience between them. There were only a handful of times she shared what went on during a mission, and none of those times was a mission gone wrong. He never blamed her because he didn't like to talk about his missions either. He was usually curious though, and in cases like this one, worried. He snorted.

"Yeah, nothing but sunshine and rainbows I'm sure. Need help with your suit?" he asked with a resigned smile.

She didn't respond. Instead she shifted so that her back was facing him and sat her vodka on the table in front of the couch. He used the hand that had previously been resting on her arm to clutch the zipper at the base of her neck. He slid it down slowly, already feeling the beginnings of an erection tightening his sweats. It didn't matter that their after-mission sex was just an escape. It, and she, were still hot as hell and he would never miss a chance to be her release. Just like she had never turned him down. As far as he knew they had only ever gone to each other for this service and for them, with the lives they led, it was probably as close to a relationship as things were going to get.

When the zipper stopped right above her firm ass she slid her arms out of the sleeves in a practiced motion. She went to stand to finish stripping out of the tight material but found Clint's arm around her waist keeping her in place. He pulled her snug against his front and used his unoccupied hand to brush her hair from her neck. He kissed a line from her shoulder to her ear before suddenly nipping the lobe. She gasped and could feel his smirk as he kissed back down his line. This time, he stopped right at the juncture in-between and bit down hard on the soft flesh he found there. She groaned this time, her hand shooting out to squeeze his thigh.

He sucked at the spot for a second to take the edge off and made a low noise of his own when she started to massage the thigh her hand had captured. As she started to inch her way up so did he, the hand on her waist dragging across her flat stomach and up to her chest. As he grasped a breast and began to knead it she found and palmed his cock through his pants. He groaned and spread his legs some before attacking the other side of her neck. She let out a breathy moan when he simultaneously started to tweak her pert nipple and scrape his teeth against her a couple seconds later.

"You can stand up now." He announced in a sultry tone when he was done fondling her breast.

"Yes, Sir." She said somewhat sarcastically but got to her feet anyways, facing the couch.

Clint reached out and grasped the material hanging around her hips. As he tugged downward he began to kiss and nip the skin he exposed. When her suit got to her knees he dropped the material and instead brought his hands to her ass where he dug his short nails in. She hissed and continued trying to free herself from the material. When she had only one foot free he used his leverage to bring her closer to him, burying his face in the curve of her hip. He ran his tongue along the bone before biting down. Her hips bucked forward and her hands found their way into his short brown hair.

Keeping one hand planted on her backside he brought the other around to slide down the small patch of curly hair in front of his face. He used his thumb to brush against her clit a couple of times, appreciating the moans it brought from her lips. He soon moved on, running his fingers along her slick lower lips. He let two fingers slip into her without pretense and felt her tug on his hair in surprise. He curled his fingers inside of her and felt her tense when he brushed against her spot.

"Mmm, Clint." She murmured, pleased.

He looked up to watch her face as he started using his thumb to rub her clit again, all the while clenching and unclenching the fingers that were inside of her. It only took a few minutes of his ministrations before her knees started to shake and he could tell by her panting that he was bringing her close. He removed his fingers and smiled when the she actually whined.

"Why did you stop?" she asked him, pinning him with an accusatory look.

He raised his eyebrows at her and lifted his hips in order to slide his sweat pants down to his knees. His thick cock sprang up out of its confines and she could see a few pearls of liquid at the head. She rolled her eyes again, but moved forward to straddle him on the couch. She held herself above his cock teasingly for a moment and he growled in warning, already able to feel her heat. He reached up and pinched the nipple he had ignored earlier and groaned when she moved enough to brush her wet pussy against the head. She reached forward to clutch at his shoulders and slowly encased him within her. He threw his head back and let out a rush of air when she got to the bottom and rolled her hips.

As she started to grind herself onto him he grabbed a hip with one hand and her neglected breast with the other. As he thumbed her nipple he used the grasp on her hip to bring her down harder on him. They were both panting at this point, and she moaned every so often on her rotation, but not enough for his taste. He dropped her breast and with both hands now secured on her hips he lifted her slightly off of him. Before she could register the change he was thrusting his hips up to meet her.

"Uuungh!" she gasped, caught off guard, and dug her fingers into his shoulder blades.

After that each thrust had her moaning. His grip on her hips was almost painful, but she barely even noticed. Similar to the way he didn't notice her nails in his back. All there was, was the sweet friction between them. The pleasure that was so good that they couldn't think of anything else. And that was the whole point.

She brought her mouth down to his shoulder and sank her teeth into the flesh when her orgasm came. Clint could still hear the scream though, even if it was muffled. If that wasn't enough to set him off her pussy clamping down on him was, and he wrapped his arms around her back and clutched her to him as he came inside of her with a groan. His hold loosened only slightly a moment later when she reached over for the discarded liquor bottle on the table. She took a swig and then held the bottle to his lips. He drank some down, the burn an odd sensation when the rest of his body was still tingling.

She replaced the bottle and lifted herself up enough to let Clint's spent cock slip out of her. She sat back onto his lap though, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Clint sighed and began to run his fingers up and down her back. He could feel the numerous scars and tried not to let his thoughts drift into dark territory when he should still be basking. She placed a gentle kiss to his jaw, the closest she ever got to his lips, and closed her eyes.

She would be asleep soon he knew, leaving him to his thoughts. He would eventually fall asleep too. Then when he woke up it would be to her getting off of him, dressing quickly, saying a quiet "thank you", and leaving. It was always the same when she came to him. But then, he did it too when their roles were reversed and they were in her quarters instead.

It was enough that they could find solace in each other's bodies for the brief moments that they did. To take refuge against the storm of bodies and bad missions. It was enough to know that they trusted each other enough for this, a commodity not usually allowed to assassins. In the end, that's what they were. Hawkeye and the Black Widow, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents through and through. They probably didn't even deserve love when it came down to it. At least that's what Clint told himself for the hundredth time as his eyes slipped closed. His last thought was how warm the beautiful body pressed against his was and how he didn't care in the slightest that he was going to be sore from sleeping in this position… because she was already asleep.


End file.
